


Maybe it’s something in the water

by s_t_c_s



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, First Date, Idiots, Online Dating, allusions to/discussion of some kind of pisskink situation but not like in a sexy way, fairly unimpressive communication skills, mentions of past Beth/Dean but entirely in terms of dean being TRASH, romantic comedy of errors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_t_c_s/pseuds/s_t_c_s
Summary: the one without the bathroom break
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 30
Kudos: 70





	Maybe it’s something in the water

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to work on something and then I started working on something else, and then instead of either of those things I wrote this. I could certainly use some cheering in these confusing times, so here's a fun AU of post-divorce Beth going on a celebratory date.

The date doesn’t turn… _weird_ until around the forty minute mark.

Beth’s not sure if that represents a good run, has access to little data – and none that's legitimately _hers_ – on grown-up first ones to call upon for comparison. Annie’s stories make it _sound_ fairly impressive, but Annie may not be the best barometer.

She’s been feeling a bit – maybe not _out_ of her depths, but like she needs to pause in the paddling to plant her feet again and again, to be positive she won’t suddenly submerge. Annie and Ruby did a stellar job of convincing Beth that she – and her vagina – absolutely had to celebrate divorcing Dean. Not that Beth had been a hard sell. On the _concept_ anyway.

*

The reality, once her profile was tucked into proper shape, turned out to be rather more – _clinical_ than expected. The idea of approaching someone at random, a person she couldn’t even smell or hear prior just seemed… so _unsexy_.

Beth was shuddering occasionally by the time Annie and Ruby were poking at their suggestions’ pictures on the screen with loud tuts, and not simply for the smudges they were leaving in their wake. Finally she snatched the laptop from them, disregarding their dismayed cries. When Beth began busying herself with switching preferences, running her vision along results, Annie and Ruby sneaked around to her side. But as they stayed chill, didn’t make to re-grab, Beth ignored them.

“ _Him?_ ” Annie said, all incredulity, around the same moment Ruby mused, “Kinda cute,” quietly, with a considering shrug.

“Hmm?” Beth twisted slightly, to take them both in better.

“Are you gonna click already, or?” Annie’s fingers wiggled forwards.

When Beth blinked, Ruby added, “Yeah B, your cursor’s _been_ hovering.” The last word was delivered with an emphatic, swooping nod and flared lashes.

So Beth rolled her eyes, but _did_ tap at her trackpad. She’d been prepped for all manner of hipster pretension, indications (or perhaps even straight up admissions) of obsessive cycling, and the possibility of skin in additional photographs. Instead the guy’s page was – minimal. Intriguing. Each piece of information seemed highly specific, genuine with it, especially the stuff about the model planes. Calculated, certainly, but not in a manipulative attempt to check generic boxes. Beth was doubly glad she’d whittled the worst of Annie’s bells and whistles from her own answers to the standard questions.

“Hmm,” Beth said.

From the rustling, it was clear that Ruby and Annie were echoing her noise near-silently at each other, and _definitely_ giving a lot of face. Beth didn’t pay them an iota of attention.

*

Figuring out an opener wasn’t smooth steering either. And she hadn’t wanted to canvas Annie and Ruby’s opinions. Or she _had_ , but – not enough to suffer through their input and curiosity along the whole process.

Beth shut the laptop to disappointed groans, staving the pair of them with promises to _truly_ think about it. They left not too long after – Annie first, soon followed by Ruby after she tossed a particularly affectionate, “Hate your face,” Beth’s way.

And then Beth not entirely idly cranked up the computer again and just kind of – thought.

Eventually she went with, ‘hello’. It probably didn’t constitute the peak of her message-writing skills, but it surely got the point across. He didn’t reply straight away, a fact that she appreciated. Not only because it encouraged her to get on with tidying up, avoiding whatever Annie had done with the napkins for the moment. Beth got through a decent chunk of the work, before the ping. It heralded a single word in response, ‘yes’.

So Beth typed out her retort, once she’d poured another glass, pointing out that she hadn’t – yet – _asked_ this guy anything. And he wrote back, ‘whatever it is, pretty sure I’m down’. Which was flattering and – and _tingled_ , even as it caused a trickle of apprehension.

They arranged to meet and – yeah. It had been easy for Beth to fall asleep, after that.

*

Rio – that was his name – met her outside the bar (his choice, after Beth’d insisted he pick – keen to see where he’d suggest, and feeling untrendy, plus sore about it), as planned. He’d been prompt, Beth’s version, appearing five minutes ahead of the agreed time.

He was at least as ludicrously handsome as his picture had implied – all male-model cheeks and chin, engrossingly golden skin, with what should have been a farcical throat tattoo. But it wasn’t _solely_ that. Maybe this was only the beginnings of recovering from considering Dean’s placid inattention the norm, but Beth was struck with this vibrating _energy_ between Rio and her. His focus buzzed through, jittering beneath her outer shell. She wondered how deep it could go.

He asked if she wanted a beer, and usually, being more of a bourbon gal, she might have said no. But she found herself suddenly particularly fond of her wits, uneager to outpace her companion. As well as ready to replace the automatic associations she had with the beverage – teenage parties after football games, or Dean rooted unhelpful on the couch as she bustled – by papering over them.

Beth chose the first one because she liked the name. Rio grinned, languid because he could be, definitively not sloppy, at her divulging this.

She didn’t ask him all that much because – well, not _exactly_ because she didn’t wish to, more that it felt risky. Too close to interrupting the ideal forming. But Rio quizzed her on a couple of subjects. Not what she guessed the typical interrogations would be – job; origin story; kids, conceivably. Instead it was her opinions on gluten-free snacks (the taste, not existence, of). Whether the creak of the door was annoying her – largely, Beth assumed, due to her glaring over towards it, but Rio framed the remark with a sympathetic, not mocking, bent. The questions didn’t come right out of the blue, but he advanced briskly from dimly connected topic to topic, almost Annie-esque.

And Rio shared a dusting of facts too – starting a sentence or three with, “You know...” before launching. He was apparently not all that constrained by the notion of conversational norms, or expectations of awkwardness. She was treated to a slightly hammy diatribe about an interior decorating woe. There was an anecdote about a scar on his jaw that Beth could barely see, even when he tilted about to her precise specifications. A gag about a river that she didn’t entirely grasp, between his mumbling cadence and how distracted she swung, trying to follow the contours of his utterances.

Being talked _at_ wasn’t generally the kind of situation that Beth could stand but. He was _funny_ , and engaging, and when he’d finished saying something he simply _stared_ at her and she found her mouth widening. Beth ended up spinning that one about the piano lessons – though it was Annie’s retelling really, the pithy, breezy variant. The saga of borrowing the car too, cos why not, right. And she let a portion more of her perspective flood in with that tale – not the _desperation_ for the groceries, which was far too personal, but the responsibility she’d held for gathering them.

It hit Beth that here was a person who had never, ever known her as the wife of Dean Boland. That she could masquerade as any incarnation of herself she wished for Rio, and, more importantly, for herself.

When he reached out, pushed her hair behind her ear, letting his finger linger in the slide away – _just_ brushing her jaw, Beth’s breath flinched. Her lips quirked. Rio’s were moist and full and parted.

She selected the second beer for the floral design on the label.

*

The comments hadn’t been lascivious per se, though the looks were an entirely different matter. Rio said a couple of things that made her internally squirmy, though she wouldn’t claim she didn’t appreciate them. That suggestive sliver about the total extent of her blush which Beth hadn’t so much pointedly evaded as had been fundamentally incapable of forming sounds in response to. And when she mooted playing pool he – well, Rio sort of intimated he’d prefer to see her on top of the table than any other scenario involving it.

But he acquiesced to the challenge when Beth merely raised a brow his way, catching her amusement, feeding it back, amplifying what sparked. Rio didn’t hop down from the seat though, nor gesture for her to lead the way. He was seemingly content to let Beth set the pace. Which, just – _nice_. She’d long resented her heels or weighty purse around Dean, with the way he’d flapped about with rapidity, easily sidetracked – a giant Labrador of a toddler. Until Beth had grown to love her accessories, her torrent of bitterness flowing towards Dean instead.

Beth said, “I need to go to the bathroom,” because she did, bladder brimming, while making a ‘one minute’ kinda motion as she descended.

Rio replied, with far too much enthusiasm, “Oh I bet you do,” basically _lewd_ , huge-grinned. He abruptly jumped from the bar stool to join her.

Beth – froze. Flamed. Attempted to move beyond the short-circuiting.

And – well. Perhaps it had been closer to three quarters of an hour all in, but really, who the fuck was counting.

*

God, she mostly feels _embarrassed_ for this guy. His… predilections are his own damn business, and she’s not inclined to judge, but she’s _hardly_ given so much as the whiff of a suggestion that that’s something she’s into. Beth distinctly recalls combing through – out mostly, too – any of Annie’s contributions to her dating profile. And for him to so brazenly _presume_ , it’s utterly bizarre.

Her eyes yawn wide, mouth stuttering open. “I think,” Beth all but hisses, “that you have got the wrong impression.”

Rio’s demeanour shifts then, fingers rambling minutely against each other as his lashes bunch around. Surprise is there – but not outrageously.

Beth glances about, intent on informing him in no uncertain terms, but leaning a dollop perturbed by the proximity of other patrons, how _public_ they are.

She shuffles closer, towards one of his ears, to _quietly_ grit out, “I do not want to pee on, or _ugh_ , be peed on–”

But then Rio’s _cackling_ , with such intensity she thinks him in danger of – um. Well, doing himself damage, feasibly. He almost knocks her head with the force of his amusement.

Beth’s about to storm away, having had – really and truly – _enough_ of this maniac, when his attempt to speak halts her.

“That’s not what I meant,” puffs out, eventually.

She scans him with suspicion.

“Just thought you wanted to relocate somewhere more – private.” Rio waggles his eloquent eyebrows.

“Oh,” Beth says, dulled. Ashen.

He lulls, wary but possibly not deflated.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Beth’s tone pinches as excessively prim to her own ears.

“Right.” Rio doesn’t look unamused nor wildly chagrined. But the vibe has definitely leaked some headiness.

When she returns, he’s fiddling with a coaster, swirling it between his fingers in a fashion both dexterous and absent-minded.

“You know, I had to look this place up on Google Maps,” Beth informs him, careful, as she settles back into the unreasonably tall monstrosity of a chair.

He swivels to face her properly again. Rio’s knees bump hers. Beth doesn’t react, outwardly.

“Oh yeah?”

She nods, once, forthright. “I didn’t know there was a Bed Bath & Beyond round here.”

Rio mms, thumbs vaguely in what’s probably the correct direction, Beth’s a tad disoriented.

“And the bakery across the street has really good reviews.”

He half-grumbles at that, chases it with a few mutterings about hipsters.

“There’s a hotel at the end of the block.” Beth squeezes the statement out, a light touch to her tongue.

His hands are twined in his lap now. Rio’s pupils zip around her features.

“Is that so?” he asks, in a manner that insinuates this is in no way new information for him. Although – although, she doesn’t _know_ him. Can’t say that for certain.

Beth mmhmms. Contorts down from the objectionable seat. Offers a bland smile. Gestures with her eyes towards the bar, so Rio waves to a member of staff, requests the check.

While he’s signing, Beth reaches into her pocket. Rio’s looking back at her when she extracts – it. His gaze drops to her hand on the wood of the bar. She’s inspecting him, notes where his scrutiny is aimed. So she lifts off.

“What’s that for?” he asks. The back of his pointer strokes a gentle pattern across the knuckles of Beth’s raised hand, rather than extending for the key card.

“Well,” Beth says. “I thought we might want to go. Somewhere more private.”

“That right?” Rio drawls, nudging her palm upwards instead, teasing the potential of melding their fingers more than outright enacting such.

“Mm.” Beth picks up the card, plucks her purse from the hook. Watches Rio fold both their jackets over one arm. Then it all seems to happen in perfect unison – the shared nod. Their well-matched strides. The exit.

**Author's Note:**

> Obvi I forever love the canon bathroom break, but the idea of this misunderstanding made me laugh, so I wrote it.
> 
> Title is from the chorus of In The Water by Nitty Scott. (The next line is: maybe it's something I was sipping I'd be younger).


End file.
